Erudition
by ravenskeeper721
Summary: Knowledge is power. It always has been. What if it's too much for a young witch to handle? What if someone was so hungry for power, he'd be willing to push aside his hatred for anyone who isn't pureblood to gain it? Hermione's found herself in a predicament she won't be able to get out of without the help of an unlikely source. STRONG VIOLENCE AND SCENES OF A SEXUAL NATURE
1. Taken

"They took her!"

"Ron, calm down-"

"They bloody took her!"

Harry stared long and hard at Ron. The dirt and grime clinging to every crevice of their bodies became more prominent as the dust began to dissipate in the Great Hall from the destruction the Death Eaters had left behind. His clothes felt like they were made of lead, dragging him down; or maybe it was his muscles. Either way, it was a struggle to remain standing, hunching over as he tried to catch his breath.

"Took who, Ron? Took wh-"

Harry looked up at his friend, his fierce gaze meeting with his depleted one. A feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Eyes took on a note of concern and Harry frantically searched the faces of the crowd gathering before him. All of them looked frightened, exhausted, but above all else, distraught.

His eyes burned from the dust and he rubbed at the corners of his eyes, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. How'd they get into the castle? Why did they just leave? Where was...

"Hermione..."

-

"Get your filthy hands off me!"

Hermione snarled at whoever was dragging her along, yanking herself this way and that and eventually letting him deal with her body weight by simply letting gravity do its job. The man gave a huff before effortlessly throwing her over his shoulder, her hands bound together with rope. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but she knew that would do her no good; not in the Dark Forest at least.

"Mudblood's got 'erself an attitude! Why d'ya think 'e wants 'er o' all people, huh?"

"We don't ask questions. We do what the Dark Lord wants. That's it."

Hermione swallowed hard, panic setting in. She knew what Voldemort did to mudbloods and she was not about to become just another corpse. She had to think logically, despite the deep set fear that was slowly spreading through her body like liquid fire. Hermione Granger was not a quitter. She was one of the most powerful witches of her generation! She could get out of this. Hell, she had used a Confundus charm on Cormac two years ago without a wand. That in and of itself was a feat not even mastered by accomplished wizards.

Hermione looked around her, as much as someone could look when draped over another's shoulder. She could see the top of a wand coming out of the man's back pocket and took a deep breath.

"_Relashio,_" she whispered, eyes closing in concentration.

When she opened them, the rope around her hands loosened enough for her to be able to free her hands. Hermione stole a glance toward the other man, the lanky looking one with a top hat covered in multi-colored patches. He was too busy arguing with the brusque man carrying her to pay too much attention to what she was doing.

Good.

The next few minutes were excruciatingly slow as Hermione moved as slowly as humanly possible; trying not to give away her actions of reaching the wand he was carrying so carelessly.

As soon as her fingers wrapped around the handle of the wand, she let out a breath before whipping it out and flicking it at his feet, causing him to trip and fall. He did exactly what she thought he would. He dropped her, reaching out to stop himself from landing flat on his face. Hermione hit the ground and rolled to lessen the impact of the fall, not having time to react to the pain that sprang from her elbow.

Swinging out the wand, she shot a jet of red toward the patched hat man, watching him fly back, stupefied.

Hermione scrambled to her feet, point the wand at the man she had tripped.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

The girl took off running, a satisfied smirk spreading across her face as she dodged tree roots, jumping over rocks and ducking under low hanging branches as she tried to make her way out of the Dark Forest. They'd only assigned two men to handle her. They would be their first mistake.

"_Impedimenta!_"

The young witch was frozen, her muscles locked and unable to move. Her balance was off kilter and she fell to the side, her head hitting the root of a tree hard. Darkness crept into the corners of her vision, but she remained awake long enough to see a form make its way toward her.

"Never send a man to do a woman's job..."

The woman's high pitched voice penetrated the air as Hermione's vision ebbed away, shrouded by darkness.


	2. Pain, Ideas, and Revelations

"Ron. Ron, stop it."

He had stalked off toward the Dark Forest, his wand at the ready. Harry knew the man was ready to walk right in there, after Hermione no doubt. The only hesitation Harry felt was because of the creatures that resided in the darkness. He knew the Death Eaters had a path, a way of navigating through the tumultuous forest. Ron was going in blind and that was something Harry couldn't allow despite his need to find his best friend.

"Let's take a moment. Think like Hermione. She wouldn't go in there without first having a plan!"

"I've got a bloody plan, Harry! And that's to get Hermione back!'

Startled by the sudden surge of emotion, Harry could see frustrated tears pricking at the corners of Ron's eyes and he reached out, pulling him into a supportive hug. Ron fought at first before letting himself just stand there, muscles tense.

"I know you're right Harry... I just… We need to get her back…"

"I know Ron. I know."

-

"You're never gonna guess who Lestrange brought back with her!"

Icy blue eyes lifted to stare at the Death Eater who had entered his room. Draco wasn't one for guessing games, despite the fear that penetrated him to the very core; he still held some influence over people. Besides, he'd just gotten back, wondering where Bellatrix had disappeared to after the group had left the castle.

"Do you honestly expect me to guess? Don't be daft. Tell me."

The Death Eater initiate straightened up and cleared his throat, obviously knowing that joking around with the man wasn't going to get him anywhere. Draco rolled his eyes and let his legs swing over the edge of the couch, hands pressed into the cushions on either side of him.

"The mudblood girl, Granger. Apparently the Dark Lord wanted her for something."

Draco's grip tightened, his nails digging into the fabric hard enough to tear a few strands. His eyes widened a fraction, but not enough for the man standing in front of him to question it.

"What does he want with her?"

There was a growing tightness in his chest, something he couldn't quite explain. A heat rose inside of him and it took him a moment to realize that it was panic. He was panicking.

"Who cares? All I know is that it's gonna be a good show!"

That said, the Death Eater left, a spring in his step. It disgusted Malfoy. He let himself fall back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling and trying to control his frantic breathing.

Draco had always been intrigued by the girl, acting out only because it was expected of him. He was a Pureblood, a ruthless Slytherin and heartless Death Eater. But that was his father's doing. His mother was much different and had showed him an alternative way of thinking Draco felt he could never do. She was compassionate, caring, and loyal to her loved ones, yet put on a front, just as Malfoy did now.

He slammed his fist down on one of the armrests, the wood groaning in protest against the abuse. The wizard was confused, pulled apart from trying to be like his father and doing what was obviously the right thing to do. Slytherins were self preserving, clever and witty, and yet, Malfoy didn't want to feel that way. He wanted to do something uncharacteristic.

He wanted to live without the constant fear.

Rising to his feet, Draco left the room and headed down in the direction the initiate had headed, knowing it would bring him into the Grand Hall of his home. After all, it was obvious that the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters would be residing in Malfoy Manor for the time being.

His Aunt approached him now, her hair wilder than it had ever been. Draco flinched immediately when he felt her hand on his shoulder. Her 'signs of affection' left a cold imprint on him, seeping into his skin and freezing him to the spot.

"Draco! We were wondering when you were going to show up! Here to see the catch of the day?'

There was a twisted smile on her face that distorted her appearance. She could have been beautiful if the darkness hadn't consumed her.

She yanked him forward and he let out a small grunt, her arms wrapping around him in a sinister embrace that only instilled fear and made the man uncomfortable. She was always so good at making him squirm.

In front of them, one of the Golden Trio was on the ground, eyes closed and hands tied tightly behind her back along with her ankles. Draco swallowed hard, unable to look longer than a few seconds. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at him.

"What's this? Are you feeling _sympathy_? Draco, she's a filthy mudblood, tainting the Wizarding World with her impure blood! Remember your purpose here. Don't think I've forgotten what you did up at the top of the Astronomy tower."

Her words echoed in his head and he shut his eyes tightly, hands balling into fists. He yanked himself out of her grasp, stalking away from her and the bound witch.

-

"Where is the girl, Severus?"

Even now, the voice sent chills through the former Potions Master.

"Bellatrix Lestrange managed to apprehend her when the two that had been sent failed to contain her."

"Good, good."

The Dark Lord sat in a throne-like chair, overlooking the entire room. Two Death Eaters stood by the door, wands at the ready. A large boa wrapped itself around the legs of the chair and up the back of it. Its head rested on Voldemort's shoulder, its stare unwavering. Snape was never fond of the snake.

Voldemort pet the top of the creature's head, a small smile forming on his face that didn't reach his eyes. His smiles never did.

"Why do you need her, my Lord…?" He asked tentatively, knowing full well the consequences to those that knew too much.

"You are a trusted friend, Severus. So I'll tell you."

With a wave of his hand, the two Death Eaters left without a word.

"You said it yourself, as you watched over the students; recorded their progress. She is the most powerful witch of her age. I want to know why. How can a witch with two muggle parents become one of the most skilled witches of her time? I want to know what she is and how she can be stripped of such a right."

He stood up, walking toward the Professor. A boney hand reached out to grasp his shoulder with a deathly hold that forced the man to his knees. Severus looked up at his Leader, his gaze firm though a glimmer of fear was all too evident. If anyone said they weren't afraid of the Dark Lord, they were lying.

"We're going to watch her. Observe her. Put her into different scenarios and see how she reacts. I want to know how her mind works, what the source of her power is. Then, once I get everything I need, we'll... dispose of her."

Snape swallowed hard and nodded.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good. Get up and make sure Bellatrix takes the girl to one of the holding rooms. I know she wants to have a little fun, but not yet."

Snape lifted himself from the ground, brushing off the black robes and turning sharply on his heels before leaving the room quickly.

-

Draco felt sick. He had to get away from the sight, to get the image of the witch who he had been expected to hate bound and helpless on the floor of his hallway. He'd never thought he'd see the day when she looked so vulnerable. She had always been so strong, so independent.

He used to hate how he admired her tenacity and her ability to see what the other two members of the Trio could not. Her intelligence surpassed those of her fellow peers, and while Draco was near the top, she would always be a cut above the rest. It didn't help that she had shed her childish looks and took on a more pronounced appearance in the halls of the Great Wizarding School.

The Slytherin rubbed his temples, trying to remember why he hated her. She was a mudblood—no. She was muggle born. The word felt bitter on his tongue and only used it because his father had taught him to use it. He hated her because his Father told him it was how he was supposed to feel.

There was no good reason to dislike the girl except that they were in separate houses and of course the fact that she had nailed him in the nose their third year.

His fingers brushed along the bridge of his nose, frowning at the memory. She had a good arm that much was for certain. Did she learn that in the muggle world?

Despite his father's influences, Draco was fascinated with the mere idea of the muggles and how they functioned without magic. Though, he'd never give up his abilities to see what it was like, he watched from a distance.

Confusion spread the young wizard, a hatred building not against what she was, but against what he had become. He didn't want this life; he didn't want the tattoo printed on his arm that labeled him a threat. He was forced, pressured by his father, his aunt and of course, from the Dark Lord himself. Only his mother looked on with saddened eyes, knowing what this meant for her only son.

"God Dammit!" He yelled, not caring who heard him at this point.

He ran hasty fingers through his hair, disheveling it before turning to look into a nearby mirror. He'd changed, no longer the mischievous little boy who wanted so greatly to be like his father. His eyes looked hollow and raw and his face was gaunt and paler than usual. It didn't help that he wore a frantic, crazed expression.

Grabbing hold of a metal candle holder, he slammed the end of it into the mirror, shards flying in every direction.

What was he supposed to do now? Sit and watch whatever it was they were going to do to Granger? That's all he ever did; sat back and let it happen. He never acted, never went against orders. He was self-preserving, doing what he had to do in order to survive.

It all seemed pointless now. He knew Potter wouldn't be able to do much without her. He had to do something.

Standing straighter, Draco stared into the remaining fragments of the mirror that hadn't fallen from the frame. His appearance was cracked and distorted but that didn't change the sudden determination in his recently wild eyes. With an idea in his head, he left the broken mirror behind.


	3. Betrayal and a Slight Push

**I know it's been a while! Real life got in the way of writing and that needed to be taken care of. Here's the third installment of the fanfic. Criticism is always welcome. Enjoy!**

"I wonder what the Dark Lord wants with her... I mean, what's the point in keepin' a mudblood alive?"

"It's not our place t' ask questions. 'sides, she might hear us."

"C'mon, she's out cold. I doubt she'll wake for another few hours."

Hermione had been awake for some time, but she wasn't about to give that away. She remained perfectly still, soft even breaths giving the illusion that she was still asleep. She resisted the urge to start panicking even though she wanted nothing more than to sit up, look around, and cry. In fact, she forced back tears, stifling all attempts of audible sobbing. She may have been strong, but even she had her weak moments.

"Ya hear 'bout what the school's doin'?"

"Raisin' their wands and lightin' up the sky t' the death o' their beloved Headmaster? What a laugh, eh?" One of them scoffed.

Hermione bit down on the inside of her cheek to suppress a gasp as a wave of anguish washed over her body. Dumbledore was dead? Despite all his flaws that were quite plain for her to see, he had been important to Harry. He had pointed him in some directions, albeit he barely gave any of them information and left them in the dark on more than one occasion. However, he was a symbol of hope to many of the students and Harry loved him. Without him, any leads to any Horcruxes he might have known about were dead. But at least Harry and Ron were still out there. The prophecy was still in effect.

She thought back on the private meetings she would have with Dumbledore over afternoon tea. She'd used the time turner in her third year to not only take on more classes, but also speak with Dumbledore about spells and magic. He'd taken an interest in her fascination and when she turned in the Time Turner after her third year, they continued to meet. He possessed knowledge that she craved and so her meetings with him provided much insight into the world of wandless, nonverbal magic. In fact, Hermione was known for spending most of her free time (that wasn't spent with the boys) with professors, perfecting and honing her skills. She showed great promise.

Hermione knew it was time to start thinking of a way to get out of here. She couldn't always rely on her friends and they didn't even know where she was! If she could get to her wand, she'd be able to send out her patronus to find them, or any wand that would sway its allegiance.

There was still the fact that her hands were bound but that worried her less. She could get out of them without a wand. She'd already tested that.

Then again, they could have enchanted them this time. If they were smart enough, that is. The Death Eaters weren't, but she was sure whoever it was in the forest that had gotten her was a pick above the rest.

"I want t' be right up front when the Dark Lord gets a hold o' her! Oh! We'll be in for a treat, I say!"

Their excitement was sickening and Hermione clenched the muscles in her stomach to keep from gagging. Each move they made sent a chill down her spine. How close were they? Were they going to grab her at any moment? Where was she? Hermione didn't dare open her eyes but she relied on her other senses to help her out.

There was a draft, a chill that settled in her bones. The ground was cold to the touch and moist against her face. Stone. She was lying on a stone floor. There was a dripping in the distance and a smell of mold and mildew permeated the air. She could only assume they were underground and from the touch of the stone on her cheek, she determined it was a dungeon.

The sound of rattling chains and moans coming from the cell over drew Hermione's attention, listening in on what the other prisoner was moaning about. What sounded like incoherent mumbling to the Death Eaters sounded like a plea to the young witch.

"Oh no.. Not her. Couldn't be.. She... No..."

Despite the moans being low and raspy from being denied water, the voice sounded familiar and Hermione couldn't put her finger on it. Just who was in the cell beside her? And how long had he been there?

"I suggest you wake the girl. The Dark Lord would like to see her now."

That voice. It was all too familiar to the witch and she felt her skin crawling and her mind racing as she recognized the constant antagonist of her many years at Hogwarts. He'd always been watching the Golden Trio, always getting in the way and yet, he was supposed to be someone they could trust, someone who was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, someone...

"Snape." She spat, rolling over until she sat upright. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light and from that, she could see the form of his snake like body. Hatred filled her very core and if glares could kill, hers would be deadly.

"Seems she's already awake."

Hermione shook with uncontrollable rage. She had forced herself to accept Dumbledore's judgment, though there had always been suspicion when the topic came to the Potion's Master. She tried to see what he saw, how he felt, and why he acted the way he did. She had figured out bits and pieces, some from how Dumbledore spoke of him, parts from what Harry had seen during his Occlumency lessons with the Potion's Master.

"He trusted you... He trusted you and now he's DEAD! He's dead because of you!"

"That's enou-"

"NO! No, it'll never be enough! You betrayed us all! You betrayed the one man who gave you credit despite what everyone thought!"

Why he was allowing her to scream at him, she would never know, but she took advantage of it. Pushing off the ground, Hermione lunged at him, only to fall over with her ankles bound, chin hitting the stone and a ringing filling her head.

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."

A look of irritation passed over his face as the corner of his lip curled in distaste. He reached down and yanked the girl up, not caring if he pulled a few hairs from her head. Hermione let out a gasp as she felt the tip of his wand pressed roughly underneath her jaw. She clamped her mouth shut, teeth grinding together.

"Langlock."

Hermione let out a small cry before her tongue sprung to the roof of her mouth, locking it in place and preventing her from saying anything further. A soft whine escaped the witch before he removed the ropes around her ankles and pushed her forward, wand pressed against her back.

"Don't think it wise to try and escape. I've created spells you wouldn't believe. Each designed to immobilize, even maim if I so wish it. I won't hold back just because you were a student, Granger. We all know what you're capable of."

A scowl fitted on her face as she was pushed forward, leaving the dungeon and the senile prisoner behind.

Harry sat in the Great Hall. He hadn't bothered to change out of his grass stained pants or sweat covered shirt. His hair sat matted to his forehead and all he could think about were his losses. Voldemort had taken away his parents. Bellatrix had taken Sirius, Snape took Dumbledore and now, now they had taken his friend, his confidant. His fingers wrapped around his wand tightly, trying to think rationally but rage blinded him.

"Dammit!" He swore, fist coming down hard on the wooden table. Glass embedded in his skin from shattered goblets from the destruction the Death Eaters had left behind. What had once been a Great place now held such fear and anguish; it made the man sick.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall standing before him, hands clasped together in front of her. She looked resigned, though her posture gave none of that away. She still stood as tall as ever.

"We are sending the students home once a proper ceremony is given..."

He hadn't even thought about the students that were here. In fact, despite being surrounded by all the destruction, his mind was off on its own. He realized then that Ron had already left, saying something about all his family being here. Harry wondered why he hadn't gone with him.

"Yeah.. I suppose that's the next step, isn't it?"

What were they supposed to do now? There were absolutely no leads that he knew of. The Order was at a dead end, having one of their members stabbing them in the back and making off with all of their secrets. Harry had always told them not to trust Snape. He was only in this for himself. Always.

"Mr. Potter… We suggest that you go home with the Weasley's afterwards. The Order will be sending a few trusted Aurors to look after the Burrow. We do have a plan, though we never thought we would have to implement it." 

Harry scoffed, standing up from the table and looking down at his feet.

Was he really supposed to sit back and let everyone else take action when he was the one Voldemort wanted? How many lives had to be taken before they realized he should be included in the plan? He was part of a Prophecy wasn't he? Why didn't they take him seriously?

"You really expect me to just sit and wait for him? Wait for the inevitable while people die for me?"

"Of course I don't." 

Harry stopped mid-argue, shock registering on his face.

"Mr. Potter, you were never one for rules or laws. And it was good that you weren't. If you had listened to everything we told you, we wouldn't be here right now."

She walked over to him, removing a small bag from her robes and handing it to him. He immediately knew it was Hermione's and was quick to grab it. Where had she gotten it?

"It would seem that Hermione was prepared for the worst. Perhaps, now would be the time to find Mr. Weasley. I'm sure you two have much to discuss."

A grin spread over the boy's face and he almost hugged her, but was quick to restrain himself.

"Thank you, Professor."

With that said, Harry headed for the door.

"Oh, and Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Be careful."


End file.
